


Dead Things

by swatkat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Female Friendship, Gen, Post-Neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swatkat/pseuds/swatkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina lives as herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Things

*

 

Tinker Bell is a loud and unasked for presence in her household after Neverland. Regina hasn't had many experiences with guests, but she's certain it should involve less slammed doors and murderous glares.

Perhaps, Regina thinks, she should've seen this coming.

She shows up for breakfast with red-rimmed eyes and sniffs at her coffee, half-cautious and curious. She piles it with entirely too much sugar and stuffs herself with the food Regina so graciously provides, without so much as a proper thank you. And every now and then, she casts furtive glances, as though someone might just snatch her food away.

And perhaps, _perhaps_ , they did—back in Neverland.

 _It wasn't just me, was it_ , Regina wants to ask, but all she ever says is, 'Chew your food. For heaven's sake!'

Tink glowers and does as she's told. There's something to be said for that.

 

*

 

'Your kind now live in the nunnery down town,' she tells her over a glass of apple cider. Tinker Bell has taken to all forms of liquor of this world at an alarming fashion, putting the dwarves to shame. She's on her third as they speak, clinging to her glass like a drowning sailor. She'll want to refill it shortly after, and each time Regina will let her, even if the after-effect isn't always… pleasant. 'Have you considered meeting them?'

'That's none of your business,' Tink snaps. The cider disappears in long, thirsty gulps. 'Have _you_ considered meeting _him_ again?'

'I did,' Regina says, truthful. 'I decided it wasn't worth the effort.' She shrugs.

A plethora of emotions play out on Tinker Bell's face in quick succession, not quite human and achingly familiar. Had she ever met the Evil Queen, she would've known that Regina doesn't require _lies_ to hurt.

Her footsteps, when she stomps away, are positively thunderous. Regina can't help the small chuckle that she lets out.

 

*

 

The alley was dark and smelled vaguely of liquor and horse-piss. The tavern was bright and noisy, filled to the brim with peasants and soldiers, mercenaries and travelers and rascals of every stripe. There was loud music and singing, and a strange man bathed in pixie dust, unbeknownst to all but Regina.

There was fear, and there was anger, and there was only one that held her head high.

 

*

 

'I despise these metal contraptions of yours,' Tinker Bell says in the most unfairylike screech. 'I said I wanted to _walk_.' Her hands are clasped together, tight, eyes affixed on something fascinating on her lap.

'We're nearly there,' Regina says, reasonable. 'This is faster.' A small part of her might perversely be enjoying Tinker Bell's discomfort.   

Tink stumbles outside once they're at the docks, breathing in the salty air in fast, desperate gasps.

'How is this harder than flying?' Regina has to ask, the words spilling out before she has the opportunity to reconsider.

She doesn't flinch when an arm shoots out and grabs her by the collar. 'You're one to talk about fear,' Tinker Bell says, breath hot on Regina's skin.

'I am,' Regina says simply. 'There are few things I know better.'

She can hear youthful voices at a distance—snatches of song, and occasional laughter. Storybrooke's newest strays have settled into the empty fishermen's huts along the shore, keeping mostly to themselves in this new world of adults where they don't quite belong. Their song—melancholy, now, or perhaps it's just Regina's mind conjuring that feeling—mingles with the sound of waves.

Regina lingers long after Tink has disappeared into the _Jolly Roger_ , salt on her lips and the wind throwing her hair into utter disarray.

 

*

 

'I hated the smell,' Henry confessed one night, cuddling closer to her on the couch. A rare luxury, having him so near—Regina held her breath and filed the moment away. He had chosen to visit and that was a step. She wouldn't push too hard or cling, she _wouldn't_. 'It was damp and musty. And a bit like seaweed and rotten fish.'

She took him to the backyard and lit the now-washed garments on fire, not caring what Snow or Emma may or may not have to say.

'Better now?' she said as they watched them burn, not caring to mask her smile, either. The air smelt of ash and scorched grass, and Regina breathed in.

 

*

 

'Tink's not, uh, joining us for dinner?' Emma says, dipping a fry in too much ketchup.

She fidgets with her food and won't look Regina in the eye, as though she fears that Regina will see right through her pathetically transparent bid to ascertain Hook's whereabouts for the evening. She's correct of course, and Regina says pleasantly, 'She's at the _Jolly Roger_. She's spending the evening there, I believe.' It would not do to let her amusement show in front of Henry. For all that she's the product of the truest love, Emma's attempts at bumbling through romantic entanglements is almost as entertaining as her mother's back when the curse was still in place.

'Where's Dad?' Henry chimes in, his small face glowing with excitement. Emma appears even more uncomfortable. 'He said he'd take me fishing this weekend! And I think some of the Lost Boys are coming along! I can go, right?'

'He said _what_?' Emma scowls, even as Regina says, 'I don't see why not, dear,' reaching out to ruffle his newly-cropped hair. She can indulge her son if she wishes.

Emma's glare is a mix of murderous and _hurt_. It's a look that says 'we have to stick together', wide-eyed and a little lost.

Regina's upheld her end of that bargain in Neverland to the best of her ability, deferring to Emma even when her best instinct said otherwise. Now they're in _her_ town and Regina's all out of the milk of human kindness.

 

*

 

She nearly stops breathing when the phone rings later that night. 'What's wrong?' she tells Emma, breathless and terrified. 'Is Henry all right?' _Late, it's late_ , says a loud voice in her head.

She'd dozed off on the couch in the clothes she was wearing earlier that evening, but that matters very little if Henry _isn't_ all right. They just got him back. She can't do this again. She _won't_.

'Henry's fine,' Emma says, sounding sheepish. 'Uh, sorry if I scared you. Tinker Bell wanted me to call and say—'

' _Regina!_ ' An all-too-familiar voice interrupts. 'Come and get me!' Tinker Bell says.

 

*

 

'I'm _so_ glad you came,' Tinker Bell says, wrapping strong arms around Regina's waist. She reeks of smoke and cheap pirate rum, and Regina has to put some distance between them in order to fight the rising nausea. 'I don't think I like the ship very much.'

'I'm _hurt_ , my lady,' Hook says in mock-affront. 'Here I thought we were having fun.' His smile is lecherous, _knowing_.

Emma's eyes are as curious as Henry's are when he stumbles onto something new and inexplicable. She wants to _talk_ , Regina can tell—it's a trait she's inherited from her twit of a mother—but an armful of drunk fairy is all she can manage now. She can do without yet another fruitless attempt at a heart to heart, initiated by a Savior who's about as articulate as some of the Lost Boys.

'I'm tired,' Tinker Bell says, resting her forehead on Regina's shoulder. 'I think Hook put fairy dust in my drink,' she giggles.

Hook merely winks at her in response. 'Until we meet again,' he says, ever so gallant, even as he sways on his feet a little. 'Your Majesty.' He bows.

Emma keeps looking, looking, shoulder hunched, hands stuffed inside her pocket.

 

*

 

 

Tink is subdued on the journey back, not saying a word until they're at Regina's driveway. 'Flying was never hard,' she says softly. 'It was like breathing.'

Regina kills the engine and waits, waits. Patience has never been her forte.

'I just want them to believe in me again,' Tink says, looking out of the window. 'I want my wings.'

 

*

 

Regina's on her knees in her yard when Tinker Bell finally shows the next morning, tousled and sleepy-eyed. Gardening occupies much of her time now, and she finds it more calming than ever. It reminds her of her kind, gentle Daddy, and long summer afternoons spent in his company. The scent of grass and freshly-watered earth. A lost orchard in a lost land far, far away.  

'Good morning,' she calls out, far cheerful than she intended.

'Morning,' Tink says, shading her eyes against the sun. Regina is no expert on the effects of pirate rum on fairy constitution, but judging by the way Tink holds herself a little too stiffly, they cannot be very pleasing. 'I can't make the coffee machine work,' she tells Regina, her voice small.

Regina gets up without a word.

Tink looks pathetically grateful when she places the coffee mug in front of her.

'You can't bring back dead things,' Regina tells her, and then Tinker Bell looks confused. Wounded, almost, blinking up at Regina like a fawn with dark, dark eyes.

'What do you do, then?' Tinker Bell says.

Regina thinks of the naïve fairy she met in another lifetime. Armed with her wand and the freedom to fly, Tinker Bell had all the answers then.

'You live,' Regina says, matter-of-fact. 'Drink your coffee before it goes cold.'

She pours herself a glass of water, staring out of the window where the lilacs are now beginning to bloom. Soon, her apple tree will blossom. It bears a stub that will never quite heal, but this morning she spotted bluebirds on its branches, singing a merry song.

 

** 

 

 


End file.
